


Closer

by Prototype (buttelf)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Grinding, M/M, Making Love, Making Out, Praise Kink, Riding, So much praise, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, more-than-meets-the-canon, ratchet deserves all the love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 14:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9276470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttelf/pseuds/Prototype
Summary: After being on his own for so long, Drift hadn't realized how close he'd been staying to Ratchet when the medic came to find him. Now that Drift realizes it, he knows that he wants Ratchet's closeness in a different way.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SlimReaper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimReaper/gifts), [Kuukkeli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuukkeli/gifts), [Rizobact](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rizobact/gifts), [Rayearthmagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayearthmagic/gifts).



> Also for [Mangoshota](mangoshota.tumblr.com) on tumblr!  
> \-----  
> This has been sitting, unfinished, for far too long now. So I thought I'd crack down and finish it all tonight. Have some smut!

Drift didn't even realize it, at first. Not until Ratchet had actually pointed it out to him. The medic had been reclining in a chair at a portion of the command station, their scavenged little vessel not providing too much free space to do so, but he seemed to have managed. He was reading through a datapad littered with medical terminology and procedures– a bunch of things Drift didn't understand, but he _did_ recognize when he was mulling over some of the many patient files of members of the _Lost_ _Light_.

The red hand that wasn't holding the datapad was laid on the armrest beside him. He looked comfortable, content. 

By sitting beside him, Drift could hear his calm, quiet venting, see the very subtle tense and release of his fingers as they scrolled through the pad, felt the deep rumble of his idle engine even through the heavy battle armour and what little distance was still between them. When he chose to speak he nearly alarmed Drift– but the sound didn't scare him nearly as much as the words did.

"You're a lot closer to me than you usually are."

His voice was patient and free of any kind of his famous fiery attitude; a fact that Drift took solace in, but was still surprised to find that what he said was _true_.

Drift quickly noted his own position. He found himself laid back in another chair immediately beside Ratchet, close enough that their shoulders pressed up against each other. With his pedes kicked up onto the command console, Drift was right beside him, lazily polishing his swords with a sweet-smelling grease while the medic read, the two of them basked in a comfortable silence as they took on what pleased them while their ship meandered through space. 

As time passed, Drift gradually shifted into a more reclined, more relaxed position– one which resulted in him leaning rather heavily against Ratchet's side, the back of his helm resting on the side of the medic's shoulder pauldron. Drift was blissed-out in a way that would have allowed him to fall rather easily into recharge, comfortable against the solid warmth that was behind him and the lull around him. Their fields were mingling in a caring, friendly manner, tranquil and gentle. There wasn't anything particularly shocking about the readings, however. Not shocking enough for Drift to notice at the time that he was, in every way, invading Ratchet's personal space. 

And personal space was something he knew that Ratchet usually kept to a premium. 

As his engine sputtered to a near-stop, Drift tensed and straightened up. The places where his frame was pressed against Ratchet's now felt cold as they were exposed to open air, and Drift found himself wanting to regain that warmth with a burning fervor that he couldn't find the processor power to deal with right now. 

The increasingly nervous speedster took a shallow vent in and a shaky vent out, then with a slightly embarrassed blush he sheathed his newly-polished blades and stood up briskly. "Um. Yeah, sorry. I... I guess I was distracted," he lied, turning away from Ratchet to cover it up. Before he did, however, he flashed him a painfully weak smile– and then matched it with a painfully weak tone. "Won't happen again, Ratch. Sorry." 

Because, how could he have not noticed it? Now that it was made clear, it really was impossible to miss. All that time spent away from Ratchet... away from _everyone_ , he didn't realize he missed the closeness more than almost anything. The cheeky quips that he and Ratchet swapped on a fairly consistent basis paled in comparison to the caring gestures and the gentle touches, no matter how much fun it was to bicker the way they did. In the back of his processor, flashes of memories from the past few weeks spent between them revealed that Drift was _constantly_ at Ratchet's side– actually touching him, or if he wasn't, then he was always _well_ within personal field range. 

Now, Drift stood still at the side of his own empty chair a little ways away from his longtime friend and crush– probably the _furthest_ he's been in days– his back turned to him in an effort to hide his embarrassment. How could he have gotten _so attached...?_

He was just about to walk away, but the gentle pitch of Ratchet's voice stopped him dead. 

"...What if I _want_ it to happen again?" The medic asked cautiously.

Drift's helm whipped around and he caught Ratchet's gaze. Ratchet was looking at him like he'd never seen anything more precious or more beautiful than the speedster that stood before him, and when Drift looked down, he noticed that Ratchet had swiveled the chair and faced him, his legs splayed in a comfortable position, arms open, optics relaxed, a small smile pulling at his faceplates. 

Well. Drift knew an invitation when he saw one, and this was an offer he couldn't refuse. 

Still a little shocked but definitely happier than he was moments ago, he let his scabbards fall free of their hold on his hips, then propped them against the command console before carefully placing Wing's Great Sword on top of it. One, two steps later and Drift found himself climbing onto Ratchet's lap, a playful brush of their fields making them both smile. Ratchet leaned backwards in the chair, placing his pedes on the console much like Drift had done before. 

When Drift was settled with his back against Ratchet's chestplate, his legs were stretched out overtop Ratchet's own and the medic's strong arms banded around his waist to effectively secure him in place. 

That move got a quiet gasp out of Drift, and when those talented hands started gently stroking against his sensitive abdominal stripes, his engine hummed appreciatively at the feeling and the speedster purred right along with it.

Now that he was quite literally taking up _all_ of their personal space, Drift wasn't going to fight it anymore. If the medic felt comfortable enough to wrap his arms around him and hold him close, well, Drift thought that it would be a good idea to reciprocate the gesture. Turning his helm to the side where it was tucked close to Ratchet's neck, he nudged his face against the warm cables– and before he'd even made the conscious decision to do so, his lips were already pressed in a kiss against the flexible wiring there in an effort to replicate that impossibly-soft touch on his abdominal plates.

Drift heard the breathy ex-vent but before he could decide whether it was a good thing or a bad thing, Ratchet tilted his helm away from Drift to expose more of his neck cabling to him. Taking the hint, Drift pressed on, scattering kisses along thick energon lines while he relished in the beautiful field that surrounded him. What used to be gentle, caring projections now morphed into something a little more intense, feelings of appreciation, pleasure, comfort, possessiveness, and something else Drift couldn't quite name put on display, loud and clear. 

One of Ratchet's hands had strayed from its place on his plating and instead inched downwards, skillful fingers mapping out each of the sensory bundles that were hidden between the seams of his armour. By the time that hand slipped over his hip plates and got to the joints of his inner thighs, Drift was already keening into the touch and there was a warm pressure building in the pit of his tank. He knew his spinal strut was arched hard, which in turn made his frame stray away from Ratchet's but he couldn't find it in himself to stop, not when those fingers curled under his plating and tugged upwards gently, making Drift buck and release a barely-contained whine against Ratchet's neck. 

That was apparently all it took to get Ratchet to groan in response, pressing his hips against the speedster in an effort to keep his panel closed but Drift could feel the heat of the armour plate right against his aft. 

It was hot enough that Ratchet was making noises like _that_ , but the moment Drift felt the heat rolling off in waves from the medic, he thought he was going dizzy with desire.

"Ratchet," he rasped, trying to make his voice as clear as he could, but his vocalizer was laced heavily in static. "Ratchet, is this okay? Are _we_ okay? Can I–?" His hands splayed out in a silent question. _Can I touch you?_

"Yes," he moaned. "And _yes_. Anything you want, Drift... anything you want."

Well, that answered _that_ question. What Drift wanted most right now was just to make him feel good, but he didn't really know what Ratchet liked being done to him in order to do that. That said, the kisses to his neck seemed pretty effective and the way it made him groan was far too beautiful not to try again... this time, however, he pressed a gentle kiss to one thick energon line before baring his teeth and nipping the cabling there with a deeply satisfied hum. 

"Oh, slag, _Drift_ ," he moaned, and the speedster could feel the pleasure in his field and the purr of his engine. 

Drift's own field bloomed with satisfaction and he let his thighs fall apart a little bit more, a not-so-subtle invitation. Ratchet clearly got the hint, because his fingers inched ever-closer to his panel, but at the same time the medic seemed to hesitate.

"Drift... oh, are you _sure?"_ He whispered, pressing his lips against Drift's helm in a patient kiss. "You know you don't have to just because we're here doing this, right? You know you can say no." 

Drift wasn't able to respond, concentrating on getting those fingers to _move, dammit–_ but when Ratchet didn't get an answer he started to pull them away. Drift let out a rushed whimper of "Ratch...!"

And then shifted his helm to meet his gaze. 

Ratchet's optics were a little hazy, but the hint of caution in his field made Drift feel both safe and loved... and more than a little bit sexually frustrated. But still, he _cared_ for Drift, in a different way that he cared for absolutely everyone else. 

Drift knew exactly what he wanted, but Ratchet apparently didn't... 

Now was the time to fix that. 

"Of course," Drift began, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips, like he couldn't believe the medic didn't already _know_... "Of _course_ I know I can say no, Ratchet. I just don't have a reason to– even _I_ can't believe how long I've wanted you for." When his crush's optics widened and his cheeks flushed, Drift felt the courage to push on. " _Millions_ of years, Ratch– dreaming of getting you all up against me like this... dreams of much _more_ than that..." he giggled. "I may not have realized that I had constantly stayed by your side when you first found me, but I do know that once I noticed how much I _wanted_ to be closer to you..." Drift arched against him, pushing his aft back into Ratchet's panel and a black hand on his cheek guided his lips right towards Drift's own. Those supple plates brushed against Ratchet's while he spoke in a quiet, sultry whisper. "I can't help but want it in _every possible way_."

With that, Drift initiated their very first kiss. In Drift's wildest fantasies, him and Ratchet had been a bundle of hot energy, frantic and insatiable and desperate. But this was nothing like that... it was far, _far_ better. It was gentle yet passionate, loving and sweet and everything Drift wanted. Better yet, once Ratchet's initial shock had passed, he let out a soft sigh against Drift's mouth and rested a hand on the back of his helm to cradle him there. 

From that point on, things gradually started to heat up. With Ratchet's other hand massaging against the curved plane of Drift's panel, he had successfully coaxed the speedster into popping it open, secondary covers spiraled away right after, his valve and spike exposed to the medic's hungry gaze. Cooling fans roared, armour flared, ex-vents increased in tempo and frequency as Drift began to grind his aft against Ratchet's lap. 

Ratchet lifted him enough to allow his own panel to open and his covers to retract, baring his warm valve and his lengthy spike, which now sat enticingly between Drift's thighs. If Drift wiggled his hips, he could feel the spike rub against his wet valve which made them both gasp. But as much as he wanted to keep his legs spread wide for his medic, Drift couldn't find it in himself to stop from bringing his thighs together around that thick spike. It pushed up hard against his plush valve when he squeezed his legs and Ratchet groaned deep and loud, right beside his audial, the red hands that sat on his waist curled inwards tightly as if Ratchet just couldn't help but squeeze at the same time Drift did. 

The next time it happened, Ratchet thrust his hips upwards involuntarily– dragging the pleated edges of his delicate spike plating up against Drift's swollen anterior node, and it might have been accidental but the slide was far too intoxicating not to try again. Drift had his hands on the armrests of the chair, clenching the metal ribs tightly, undulating his hips back and forth in Ratchet's lap. Leaning back against his medic's chestplate, Drift let his head fall back to rest on one white shoulder as he moved– the movement was intimate and sweet, and their positions were _indescribably_ hot even though they technically weren't 'facing. Regardless, Drift let out a rumbling moan as he playfully wiggled his hips, the medic's hot spike caught between his thighs which now glistened with their shared lubricants. "Feels so good," Drift murmured. "You feel incredible." 

Red hands tightened their grip as Ratchet shuttered his optics, choking off a curse at both the praise and at the rhythmic squeeze-and-release of those perfect thighs. "Wouldn't be too hard to say the same to you." 

However revved up they both were, there was absolutely no inclination to rush. They were both apparently happy with this, this... strange, but surprisingly _sexy_ way to make love to somebody. The bump and grind of their frames made it easy to feel exactly how much they both appreciated the shift in their relationship, and that maybe, just maybe, they were ready to take it that last step further.

Drift reached a hand down and stroked along Ratchet's spike as it sat between his thighs, swirling a finger over the slit on the very tip. The reaction he got was electrifying and sounded beautiful when Ratchet was this close to his audial like this, the medic crying out at the sudden stimulation while Drift drank in the sight. "You feel amazing against my valve, Ratchet," Drift cooed, voice shaky and hushed. "I want to know what you feel like when you're inside me."

Ratchet let out a long, low _oh_ as he rested his hands on the glossy armour of Drift's thighs, giving in to the pleading voice beside him-- not that it was _hard._ Drift could _smile_ at him and Ratchet's spark would ache with the need to scoop that strong speedster up and cuddle him until they both entered involuntary shutdown.  "Thought you'd never ask," he murmured. Drift let out a breathy laugh against his neck cables and lifted his hips slowly, relishing in that last, hot glide of the medic's spike against his valve while he lined them up to push it inside.

And oh, it was a perfect fit indeed. Ratchet had a pretty big spike considering he was very nearly the same size as Drift, but he was not aware that his crush would feel like _this_ inside him. He stretched his valve with just the right amount of pressure against the inner lining, calipers hungrily accepting the intrusion and beckoning Ratchet in further. The medic's engine let out a stuttering rev and he felt the vibration travel all through his body, but that paled in comparison to the way Drift's valve was filled with that buzz of charge and arousal and every good thing that could possibly spin off of it.

Drift fought hard to keep his optics from closing at the absolutely overwhelming pleasure that he felt with the medic pushing up inside him, and he hoped that the hot, gripping sensation of his valve spreading over Ratchet's spike felt just as good on Ratchet's end, so he spread his legs enticingly to give them both a better look. That was a mistake, obviously, as the sight of Ratchet entering him-- _Ratchet_ , the mech he's loved for so goddamn long it _hurt_ \-- sent his fans straight to redline and Drift had to breathe hard to keep from overloading purely from how erotic it was to watch. The medic seemed to think the same way, and as if they were of one mind, they both turned their heads to face each other, staring deep into each other's optics while they continued the push onward. Watching Ratchet's hazy gaze flutter between Drift's optics and his slackened mouth like he just couldn't resist the urge to kiss him till they were breathless was far too sweet for the speedster to handle, so he gave into it the same way he did everything-- truly and passionately.

Gripping the back of Ratchet's helm and pulling him down into a perfect kiss... if it could even be called a kiss, really they were just resting their forehelms together and panting and groaning against the other's open mouth, every so often with a slide of their glossas or a tangle of their lips... either way, it was hot, and Drift was losing his mind with sensation as he finally felt the tip of Ratchet's spike nudge against the exquisitely sensitive ceiling node inside his valve, sending him curling forward in an automatic response.

For a moment, time sat as still as they did.

" _Yeah_..." Drift said casually, or as casually as you can with the universe's most beautiful spike making you ride the fine line between stimulation and overload every step of the way. "You felt good on the outside, you have _no idea_ how fragging incredible you feel on the inside."

While Drift had a nagging feeling of embarrassment in the back of his processor when he said things like that even if they _were_ true, the way his lover's cheeks warmed with the praise made it all far more than worthwhile.

Ratchet chuckled. "Never thought I'd get off on praise, but you make it so easy, Drift."

"You want me to tell you all the things I love about you while I'm impaled on your spike?" Drift asked, and while it was innocently enough, the unmistakable squeeze of his already-tight valve around the base of Ratchet's spike was enough of a reminder that Ratchet had to be careful, or this would all be over much sooner than either of them would like. But... a few little compliments while they indulged in smoking-hot interfacing couldn't hurt the poor medic, could it?

***

As soon as Drift opened his mouth, Ratchet realized he couldn't have been more wrong about his decision to let Drift do this.

"I love the sounds you make when I grind against you," he whispered, and did _just that_ with those killer hips that Ratchet had admired for so damn long. He watched that striped waist flex and rotate and he just couldn't help it, he had to touch those luscious curves, feel them move under sensitive fingers, and then maybe he'll be able to believe that this wasn't some kind of crazy dream that he'd wake up from in the medbay, panel popped open and leaking lubricants everywhere while he dreamt about his- er, _the_ \- beautiful speedster. Wouldn't be the first time that's happened.

But this wasn't like that at all, oh no. This was _infinitely_ better than anything Ratchet has ever dreamed of, the slow pumping of Drift's hips sliding his spike along the squeezing calipers as if that pretty mech knew that he had all the time in the universe to do this. In reality, he pretty much did. While their ship slowly made its way to the next destination planet, Ratchet suspected that given Drift's reactions so far, this perfect little interlude wouldn't be the last time they'd get... _familiar_ with each other.

And oh, Ratchet hoped and hoped that it wouldn't be the last time, because there was no way he'd willingly miss out on an experience like this one. They had waited too long and he was too revved up to stop now. He was just coming back to himself after getting lost in this pleasure when Drift moaned and spoke up again.

"You're somethin' else, Ratch," he said breathlessly, curling his arm up to gently brush his fingertips against Ratchet's warm cheeks, and Ratchet nearly choked with the sincerity in his- yes, _his_ \- speedster's voice. Something made him hold Drift's gaze; maybe it was the bewilderment that someone as shockingly beautiful as Drift could say something like that to Ratchet, and he was searching Drift's optics for any signs that he was joking. "I can't believe how stunning you are, even more so like this. Oh, Ratchet, you are so beautiful," he murmured reverently.

Now, Ratchet was _really_ blushing. "Drift, I-"

"Shh."

" _Drift_ -" he tried again, but the swordsmech sealed his complaint in a sweet kiss, easy for Ratchet to pull out of should he really need to. Of course, he didn't, but the sentiment was nice.

"You don't get to argue with me, not on this." Drift spoke rather sternly, especially given their situation. He smiled at Ratchet's immediate compliance and pressed on, cycling his calipers down hard on that perfect spike when he lifted his hips up and felt his valve stretch around the tip, before dropping back down _hard_. Ratchet didn't even try to stifle a moan, crying out Drift's name in a rasp as Drift watched his face carefully, monitoring each minute change of his expression and every shift in his voice. And then Drift's lips suddenly started moving as fast as his hips did; lifting and dropping in a mind-blowing rhythm that Ratchet _knew_ he was going to lose himself to. "Ratchet, Ratchet _yes_ , you are so perfect, you feel so much better than I thought you would... you're everything I've ever wanted, you're beautiful and wonderful and so kind and... and so, _so_ caring... I knew this would feel the best with you, Ratchet. I always knew."

Ratchet truly had no idea how Drift's voice was that steady through that entire litany of praise when Ratchet had just about overloaded right then and there, at the complete mercy of Drift's words alone.  but now Drift had spread his legs as far as they'd go, knees resting on the armrests of the chair while his hips rocked in tiny circles to take Ratchet in deep. He had shifted a little bit so that instead of Drift resting his helm on Ratchet's shoulder, their faces were now practically touching as Drift leaned in closer and purred happily at the sensations.

He'd taken Ratchet's hands where they were still clamped around his waist and moved one to the _very_ hard spike between those red thighs, and Ratchet hardly had time to ask exactly what Drift wanted done to him before Drift faced him, leaning their forehelms together once more as if to nuzzle the medic. Honestly, Ratchet had been expecting it, so he nudged his helm against Drift's affectionately. Drift giggled, an adorable sound, but even as he rubbed their noses together Ratchet saw that Drift's optics were half-shuttered in pleasure and he could feel the heat of his exvent and of his flushed faceplates against his own face as the speedster spoke in a quiet, sultry, _absolutely alluring_ tone.

"Finish me off, Ratch."

It was an offer that Ratchet happily complied to.

He braced his pedes on the edge of the command console and thrust up hard into Drift- the way his frame jerked upwards against Ratchet's made them both groan and Drift wrapped his hand around the back of Ratchet's helm to keep him there, keep them grounded against the pleasure. Ratchet started pumping Drift's previously-neglected spike at a pace that should have him finishing in no time, considering how damn revved up they both were.

Their half-opened optics were locked on each other in a desperate, passionate gaze and their mouths were both slack as they met with hard clashes of metal on metal and Drift was pumping back down against Ratchet as he pushed up, giving exactly what he got from the medic... Ratchet was barely holding on, already on his last resort to keep him from overloading hard and deep inside that beautiful valve, wanting to watch Drift go over first...

It wasn't until Drift's optics flashed, locked intensely on Ratchet's while he shouted "Oh, _frag_ , Ratchet _yes!_ " that the poor medic managed one, two, three more hard pumps of his shaft before his overload hit him powerfully enough that he heard his optics sizzle and his frame absolutely crackle with excess charge as he released it all into his lover. He kept his hand moving on Drift's spike, stroking fast and twisting his wrist and occasionally squeezing, and by the time Ratchet's overload had nearly completely ebbed away, Drift was just peaking into his.

He gave that pretty spike one last squeeze and thrust upwards to press against Drift's ceiling node as those hips stuttered to a stop before Drift absolutely _writhed_ beneath him, shifting this way and that as his spike spattered transfluid all over his own abdominal armour and Ratchet's hand and... and that valve... oh _slag_ , that _valve_. It was fluttering and gripping and leaking hot, wet fluid all over the spike still deep inside it, and Ratchet couldn't help but let out a shuddering groan as he watched Drift's face in overload. Oh, but Drift was beautiful. It should be illegal for one mech to be _that_ pretty in the throes of pleasure, because it went a long way to turn Ratchet on again, so soon after his own overload.

After Drift's pleasure crested and ebbed, he slumped backwards against Ratchet and let his head lull back with a lazy grin on his face. Ratchet nudged that smooth cheek with his nose, giving a small chuckle at how sated his speedster looked, and how it looked like Drift mustered up all his remaining energy just to turn his head to the side and face Ratchet again.

"Wow," Drift breathed.

"Yeah," Ratchet agreed, a happy little grin tugging at his lips. _Wow_ didn't even _begin_ to cover it.

Then, Drift lifted his hand up and covered Ratchet's own, which was stroking gently at his chestplate. He twined their fingers together and opened his optics a little bit more to get a better look at his medic, resting comfortably against the chair they both curled up in. Drift gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "You didn't seem convinced."

Taken aback, Ratchet's field flickered in shock. "What? That I didn't want to make love to you?" Ratchet was actually concerned, at this point. He wasn't sure how else he could make the speedster see that he just had the best time of his damn life. Had Drift really not noticed how hot he was running? How hot he was _still_ running?

Thankfully, Drift laughed. "No, I knew you were very much into _that_." He wiggled his hips, which shifted Ratchet's spike still inside him in the best of ways. Ratchet gave him a sigh of relief but looked at him questioningly. "I meant about the things I was saying," he elaborated, and now the medic was blushing once more.

_You're beautiful, and wonderful, and so kind..._

"You didn't seem like you believed me."

Ratchet only huffed a laugh. "I didn't. I don't."

"Why?"

That was a much more complicated question to answer than Ratchet had anticipated. Right off the bat, there were several different answers that came to mind for him, but he somehow knew that whatever he told Drift, the determined swordsmech wouldn't take it for a second. _I've been too busy saving lives to pay attention to my frame_. Drift would tell him that he's got no one on a medbay slab right now to focus on. _I don't have a highly-customizable frame like you do, Drift._ The red and white dream would laugh and tell him that if his hands can change, so can the rest of him. Ratchet settled on the one that made the most sense to him at this point in time. "Have you _seen_ yourself?" He said incredulously.

Drift nearly sounded offended, but he was smiling a little. "That isn't what I asked, Ratchet."

"No one in the history of the universe is as beautiful as you are, Drift. Of _course_ I'd feel less attractive than you think I should." If the first sentence was embarrassing enough to admit to Drift's face, well, Ratchet thought that he hid it pretty well.

"You focus on the frame too much. I think your frame is hot enough already, but that isn't what this is about."

Ratchet blushed and muttered something about Drift enjoying catching him off guard, and then Drift shushed him with a single finger pressed to his lips. In something like a reflex, Ratchet kissed the fingertip. Drift grinned.

"You haven't changed much since we met back in Rodion." To this, Ratchet rolled his optics. "But that's perfectly fine with me. I have always associated your vibrant red with safety, and life, and care..." Drift's optics flitted between the medic's own. "And now, love."

Ratchet gave him a genuine smile at that comment. So, some things came easier than others.

"Have you ever wished for a full frame remodel, Ratchet?" Drift asked softly, without a trace of any judgemental tones in his voice. He seemed to genuinely just want to know.

Ratchet was quiet for a little while. But then: "Yeah."

"Would you... like to change your frame with me?"

Ratchet looked down at those soft optics, so full of love and affection and care. How could he refuse those optics anything? "You don't sound so sure," he teased gently. But he squeezed the speedster in his arms with delicate pressure, wordlessly telling Drift that he would be willing to accept the offer.

"I didn't want to push you too hard. I just want you to feel more confident. You deserve that much," Drift admitted. Then he stroked the fingers under his, reveling in the soft sigh that escaped Ratchet's lips. "That much and so much more."

"Oh, Drift..." Ratchet said, but it was with a certain fondness that made the swordsmech smile warmly at him. "I think a fresh start might do me some good. I'm dying to get out of these plates sometimes. I want to look at something different when I look in the mirror. I've wanted that for a long time. Never bothered."

"Can I bother you instead, then?" Drift asked with a cheeky little smile.

Ratchet surprised them both by actually laughing, and then he pressed a quick kiss to a warm cheek as the speedster giggled in response. "You can bother me all you like. We're stuck on this tiny shuttle together, so I'd better get used to it before you _actually_ get annoying." He winked and Drift swatted playfully at his chestplate, making him chuckle.

After several long minutes of silence where the two were just sitting and stroking each other's plating, Drift was moving again. He shifted off of Ratchet's spike (much to the medic's dismay) and turned around to straddle him instead, pushing that very-slick valve against Ratchet's very-slick spike and settling his hips there as if his valve _wasn't_ just pressed very enticingly against all the most sensitive nodes against the bottom side of Ratchet's shaft... and to top it all off, that ridiculously sexy speedster canted his hips forward in a gentle glide.

"So, I was thinking orange..."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> ***  
> Follow my n/sfw Transformers headcanon blog on tumblr: [@more-than-meets-the-canon](http://more-than-meets-the-canon.tumblr.com/)


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